My night at the Livesay's came and went without a hitch. I woke early without setting my alarm, not because I was well rested but because I got an early morning phone call. If I had been at home I would have risen at the same time, only instead of a phone call it would have been a child knocking at my door. Part of me wanted to wait around for the Livesay's to get up, see them one more time, and give them a proper thank you, but the other part of me knew that with as much uncertainty awaited that day, an earlier start gave me a much better chance af success. I had to find my car, transfer money, get the car out of impound, buy some tile, buy some tools, then meet someone at the airport at 1pm. I usually try to keep my Port au Prince todo lists to no more than 2 item.
When I saw that Isaac Livesay was the first to rise, I had him let me out of the house and began walking in the right direction. They don't allow motorcycles in that neighborhood (because, apparantly they are dangerous) so it was a bit of a hike to find a group of taxi drivers that were willing to take me to the impound lot. I approached the group slowly, sizing up each driver, trying to figure out which would get me where I wanted to go safest and fastest. I was looking for a clean, well maintained bike. A helmet was a must. I wanted the driver to be edgy enough that they could quickly get me through Port au Prince traffic, but not so edgy that I feared for my safety. In the end, I hired the first guy that yelled "hey blanco!" It's just easier that way.
This driver did a pretty good job getting me where I needed to go, and as he wove through traffic I realized that motos in Port au Prince, while something I had always said I wanted to avoid, were actually a great mode of transportation. Sitting in an air-conditioned truck, it's easy to look at the people going by you on the back of a moto and only think about how hot, dusty, and dangerous it seems. But as you SIT in your truck, you should also notice that those motos are GOING BY you. And the people on the back of them are getting where they're going much faster than you are getting where you are. I got off that moto, paid the driver the $6.25 I owed him and actually started to consider parking my truck outside Port au Prince the next time I came in and just riding a moto around town. I could get a lot more done. But then I'd also have to park the truck legally.
I had him drop me at a place called "circulation". It's a police station that deals with license plates, licenses, inspection, transfers, titles, etc. I guess you could call it the DMV of Haiti. It's also, I was being told, the impound lot. I got there early. Almost an hour before I expected it to open. But I've learned from experience that this can actually be a very helpful thing. As I entered the lot, there sitting in front of me in all it's glory (what of it there is) was my truck. I let out half a sigh of relief. Really more like a third. The next third was reserved for when I could actually drive the truck away. And the other third was waiting on something I had actually been more worried about than the truck-- it's contents. I had left a computer, a kindle, a modem, and a few other things in the truck the morning before. And while I have the utmost respect for the police in Haiti. I also know they aren't very well paid. And as in any profession, there are some bad apples. And so, even with the truck in hand, I wasn't sure I was going to see any of the expensive stuff inside it again. I glanced around, nobody seemed to be paying me much mind, and hopped over to the truck, peaking in the back window I saw everything as I had left it the day before. A win all around. Confidant that I was going to (eventually) get everything back, I began asking around to see if I could figure out how. People pointed me toward the correct office and I worked my way over there. I knocked on the door but didn't expect to find anyone as I was still about 45 minutes early.
The door wasn't actually shut, so my knocking pushed it open. I peeked inside and saw someone sitting at the desk. As I had done with the all the people that pointed me to this office, I explained my situation. He knew exactly what I was talking about. He even knew which car was mine. As we talked he booted up a computer in front of us. The computer contained pictures of all the vehicles that had been impounded IN THERE INFRINGING POSITIONS-- so there was no arguing with the man. It was like getting a picture of you car running a red light in the mail. Pretty hard to get out of that. He explained to me exactly what I had been told the day before. I was parked legally, but facing the wrong direction. For that reason the truck had been towed and I would have to pay a fine before getting it out.
"How much?" I asked, hoping the number would be less than the cash I had in my hand.
"3000 Gourdes." Ugh.
"This is all I have right now," as I showed him the 2000 Gourdes I had left from the day before. He just shrugged and told me to come back with the money. I had located my truck. Now I just had to get it back.
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